Saturday's Old Photo
Yes, I know this isn't a very good picture, but I'm using it for a reason. It's the first in a series of three pictures that I plan to post, all of of me with my sister over the years of our childhood. They all sharing a common element--and no, it isn't trikes!--that will tell you something about the sort of childhood we had.
In this one we're tricycling together on the sidewalk of the Presbyterian Church in Belleview, Idaho. (This church, by the way, is mentioned in my very first blog post.) My sister is the one with the smaller trike. She's two and a half years younger than I am, and since we left Belleview when I was 5 years old, she can be no older than three.
We lived in the parsonage next door because my father was pastoring this church. Yes, he was an ordained Baptist minister, but Presbyterian pastors, it would seem, were hard to come by in rural Idaho. In fact, pastors of any sort were hard to come by, and my father preached regularly in another church in Carey, Idaho, a little town 2o miles or so away.
I remember him preaching during the evening in Ketchum, too, but perhaps that was only a one time event and not one of his regular duties. I do remember accompanying him once when he went there, while my mother stayed home with my sister, who was too young for such a late evening. I sat in the front pew by myself while my father led the service. I had a coin for the offering, and at some point I dropped it and it rolled clear across the front of the church; so I tiptoed after it, picked it up when it stopped rolling, and tiptoed back to my seat. I probably wouldn't even remember this incident, except that it pleased my father a great deal that I had proven that I was old enough and well-behaved enough to be counted on to conduct myself properly when left alone in a service.
After we left, this little church in Belleview was eventually supplied with two single women missionaries from Village Missions to run it. Oddly, when I looked up the requirements for pastors/missionaries at the Village Missions site, it looks as if, now, a pastor/missionary must be male, but apparently that wasn't the case back then.
In this one we're tricycling together on the sidewalk of the Presbyterian Church in Belleview, Idaho. (This church, by the way, is mentioned in my very first blog post.) My sister is the one with the smaller trike. She's two and a half years younger than I am, and since we left Belleview when I was 5 years old, she can be no older than three.
We lived in the parsonage next door because my father was pastoring this church. Yes, he was an ordained Baptist minister, but Presbyterian pastors, it would seem, were hard to come by in rural Idaho. In fact, pastors of any sort were hard to come by, and my father preached regularly in another church in Carey, Idaho, a little town 2o miles or so away.
I remember him preaching during the evening in Ketchum, too, but perhaps that was only a one time event and not one of his regular duties. I do remember accompanying him once when he went there, while my mother stayed home with my sister, who was too young for such a late evening. I sat in the front pew by myself while my father led the service. I had a coin for the offering, and at some point I dropped it and it rolled clear across the front of the church; so I tiptoed after it, picked it up when it stopped rolling, and tiptoed back to my seat. I probably wouldn't even remember this incident, except that it pleased my father a great deal that I had proven that I was old enough and well-behaved enough to be counted on to conduct myself properly when left alone in a service.
After we left, this little church in Belleview was eventually supplied with two single women missionaries from Village Missions to run it. Oddly, when I looked up the requirements for pastors/missionaries at the Village Missions site, it looks as if, now, a pastor/missionary must be male, but apparently that wasn't the case back then.
Labels: old photos
posted by Rebecca Stark at 11/11/2006 08:37:00 PM
<< Home